


That Would Be Enough

by fadedmystery



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst and Feels, Enjolras is well meaning but is an idiot, M/M, Married Couple, and Grantaire is fed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6415030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedmystery/pseuds/fadedmystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(It sounds so simple, when he says it. It should be simple.<br/>It never is.)</p>
<p>Inspired by "That Would Be Enough" from Hamilton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Would Be Enough

To be fair, Enjolras does sound incredibly regretful. But he’s still going to do it.  


(Grantaire really shouldn’t be surprised at this point.)  


“You do realize,” Grantaire says slowly, “that Corrine’s due date is in two days. _Our first child_ will be here any day now. You do remember that, right?”  


Enjolras nods, and Grantaire sighs. Of course he remembers; he remembers everything. But some lobbyist group for animal welfare had cornered Lamarque and had asked for a meeting or two. Their policies were in line with Lamarque’s platform and there was hint of funding and of course Enjolras the bright young political adviser was welcome and Enjolras couldn’t (didn’t) say no and he was very very sorry but would Grantaire mind if he went away for the rest of the week?  


“It’s just a few days,” he assures Grantaire. “The adoption paperwork’s already sorted out, and the Amis can help. I know it’s bad timing but I just couldn’t say no to this. Corrine might even be overdue, and I might not miss anything after all. It won’t be a problem.”  


He’s really not sure why Enjolras bothers asking if he’ll be okay with it when Grantaire doesn’t really have the option to say no. Well, he does, but he knows that in this case it’s a moot point, because it’s Lamarque’s campaign and Enjolras will put everything behind to make sure that the man who espouses his definition of what the country should be like is elected into office. He’s laying the foundation, Enjolras likes to explain. This is part of his 20 year-plan, which involves working his way up the political ladder until he has the mileage to run for office. _France is so backwards and we’re in the 21st century for god’s sake_ , he would rant. _We need better leaders._  


( _And you think you’re it? Grantaire would shoot back teasingly. Years ago there might have been some bite behind it, but a year after marriage and they both know he’s teasing.  
_

_I’m certainly going to try, Enjolras would reply heatedly._ )  


And it’s a small thing, really. Enjolras is right—what’s a few more days? (except that it’s not a small thing, it’s one of many shards from a big glass that keeps cracking and cracking and some days Grantaire is tempted to punch it himself and just get the breaking over with.) And it’s not that he’s unhappy with his life: he has constant commissions, great friends, and is married to a wonderful man. Enjolras isn’t neglectful, always lets Grantaire on his plans, and never forgets to remind him how thankful he is to have Grantaire by his side, how he couldn’t do it without him (except that sometimes the plans are always just “his”, never “theirs” and Enjolras doesn’t see that Grantaire would never leave him even if he wanted to.)  


“Not a problem?” Grantaire laughs harshly. “Enjolras, you’re willing to risk not being here for your kid’s birth just so you can talk about how to save orangutans with people you don’t even like. In what universe is that not a problem?”  


Enjolras rubs his temples tiredly. “We’ve gone over this before. I hate being away but this is something I need to do. Every bit of effort counts. We want our children to grow up in a better world, don’t we?”  


( _“Two kids, maybe? Three if we can manage?” Enjolras absentmindedly says as he rests his head on Grantaire’s shoulder._  


_“You just want your own mini revolutionary army,” Grantaire teases, hope blossoming at the thought of children running around their apartment one day. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find out that Enjolras wanted kids as much as he did._  


“ _I doubt three children can do much. They could probably slay people with their cuteness though,” Enjolras murmurs thoughtfully. He smiles at Grantaire. “It’ll be great, right? One day we’ll raise a family in a France our kids can be proud of. I’ll make sure of that, even if I die trying.”_  


_“Of course.” He tries not to think about how, even in planning their family, Patria is still somehow always involved._ )  


And Grantaire understands. He really does. He knows that Enjolras is fire and passion with a purpose much bigger than a human body can contain. His husband is the kind of man who will be in the history books one day--whether vilified or revered it is hard to tell, but he will be a legend. He also knows that Enjolras without a doubt loves him more than anything in this world, but that doesn’t mean Grantaire will always be his top priority. Not because Enjolras loves him less than he does the cause, but because Enjolras _is_ the cause—it’s his very fiber of being, the reason he’s alive. While Grantaire might be able to separate Enjolras and his quest for a better world, his husband cannot. And most days he’s okay with that. Really.  


(Except that Grantaire doesn’t need Enjolras to be a legend, he just needs him to be _here_. He doesn’t need history books when baby books and family albums work just fine. )  


So he snaps.  


“But that’s not all on you!” he exclaims. “Look, I get that you want to change the world and I’m proud of you for that, but sometimes you have to make room for other things. Not being there for one meeting isn’t going to derail your 20-year plan. This is _not_ the right way to start a family, Enjolras.”  


The blond’s mouth sets into a thin line. “Okay, I know I screwed up, but what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t just back out—”  


“Yes, yes you can! Lamarque would get it, the group would get it, you’re the only one who seems to have trouble understanding that our story doesn’t always have to involve the whole country, at least not right now.” Grantaire’s shaking now, face flushed with rage and fingers itching for a bottle he’s been having more trouble avoiding again lately.  


Enjolras looks away, rests his palms on the dining table. He always breaks eye contact when he knows Grantaire is right. There’s silence for several tense minutes.  


“I get it,” he says eventually. “This isn’t fair on you, and I know you’ve been unhappy. But I’m trying, okay? It’s just—”  


But Grantaire shakes his head. If Enjolras was trying, there shouldn’t be any ‘buts’, not about this. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I’m not asking you to give that part of your life up, and I’m not going to pretend I understand what’s going on in it. I just want you to make more space for this life—the one with me and our family, not with France. Someday I’ll get better at sharing you, but for now, I just need you to stay.”  


Enjolras opens his mouth to say something, but the charged atmosphere breaks with the ringing of his cellphone. “Monsieur Lamarque, hello,” he says, tone now clipped and businesslike. “Yes I—of course I could spare a few minutes—”  


His eyes seek out Grantaire’s, the apology in them clear. But he turns away and goes into the kitchen to finish the conversation anyway. Grantaire watches him leave until he’s staring at empty space.  


_I just need you to stay._  


(It sounds so simple, when he says it. It should be simple.  


It never is.)


End file.
